


Suggestion

by zeroambi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeroambi/pseuds/zeroambi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Petyr put on his most insincere humble face. “It’s true, I know nothing about strategic warfare or commanding a vanguard, but quite a bit about deceit and treachery. Useful skills all the same in wars and jousts alike,” he searched the other man’s face and put in a pause heavy with meaning, “for what I’ve seen.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suggestion

**Author's Note:**

> A missing scene of GoT Season 2 in Highgarden. (May contain mild spoilers for Season 3.)

_Petyr_

He slipped the man half a dozen gold dragons for his troubles. Quite the payment for a few silly songs of boldness and chivalry. Petyr considered it well spent coin nonetheless, since Lord Tyrell had finally gotten the hints.

And what a fine Kingsguard Ser Loras would make, he mused. Granted most of his comrade-in-arms to be weren’t inspiring song material at all, which would make him look especially good.

While some pushing had been needed in respect to Mace’s favourite son, there was no such need for the Lady Margaery, who was downright eager to meet her new king. Hardly surprising, as the late one must have been a disappointment in more than one respect for such a … passionate young woman.

Crossing the great hall, Petyr spied Willas Tyrell crawling amongst a bed of flowers in the back garden through one of the great stained-glass windows. Hard to believe that this unremarkable man was the heir of house Tyrell. He was more what you would expect a love child of Stannis Baratheon and Ned Stark to be. Petyr shuddered at the thought. He really didn’t have any use for the pious cripple at all, but between Mace, “the Queen” and Lady Olenna, the nasty old crow, there was more than enough potential to work with.

And then there was the Knight of Flowers. Petyr had reached the briefing room where he had suspected he would find him. There he stood, brooding over maps of King’s Landing in between assorted weapons and armour pieces that were also cluttering the room. Better to tread lightly around the young man, Petyr thought. Him who was giving a face to being _mad with grief_.

From most promising knight and renowned jouster of the realm to a manic and irritable mess, whispering to ghosts and caressing stag ornaments on a tacky golden gorget. Petyr thought this was bordering somewhat on the ridiculous as he watched the man. Sure, Renly was charming and did always have a sharp tongue, but it couldn’t have been _that_ good. The gods only knew what Ser Loras had done with his lover’s body before they fled. Petyr would keep his ideas to himself though, as he wasn’t particularly fond of blades in his face.

He cleared his throat to get the other man’s attention. “May I ask when you will depart for King’s Landing, Ser Loras?”

The young knight let go of the gorget like he had been burned by it and turned around, noticing him with utmost disdain. “We will depart when all the men have been prepared. The day after tomorrow, or the one after that most likely.”

“I don’t want to look ungrateful, but I’m afraid your help is needed rather urgently. Lord Stannis won’t take long for his attack on the city.” Predictably the mentioning of Stannis had Ser Loras seething.

“Going to tell me how to lead my men now, after being done buttering my father up with your horse shit?” he asked vexed.

Loras was hardly the brightest member of the Tyrell family, but still leagues above his doltish lord father. Petyr put on his most insincere humble face. “It’s true, I know nothing about strategic warfare or commanding a vanguard, but quite a bit about deceit and treachery. Useful skills all the same in wars and jousts alike,” he searched the other man’s face and put in a pause heavy with meaning, “for what I’ve seen.”

Could it be? Was that the hint of a smile? May the gods mark it as his good deed for this moon turn. But as much fun as it had been to lift the boy up a bit, Petyr would need to bring him down once again all the same. He stepped over to the table where Renly’s armour lay about. “Such a beautiful work. An armour truly befitting of a king,” he said.

He knew he was edging pretty close to the blade in the face now again. Ser Loras could barely contain his anger anymore, what with the likes of Petyr standing here, breathing, touching this relic, while its former owner his beloved king was rotting in his grave.

“Don’t tell me you’re suddenly interested in smithery?” Loras asked mockingly.

Petyr laughed and shook his head. “Hardly. A man should stick to his trade and as you know I already own several very profitable businesses.” He examined the armour once again. “It’s just that with all the skill and forethought that went into this, it would be a real shame if it would simply go to waste. Especially seeing as it couldn’t be put to the test in battle so far.”

“What?” Ser Loras took a few wrathful steps towards him, but then gathered himself. “You want to try it on?” he asked, his voice full of venom. A challenge maybe? Or an allusion to what a joke a man like _Littlefinger_ wearing armour would be.

“Oh, I doubt it would fit me, ser.” Petyr admitted meekly, but followed up with a pretty mischievous smile. “I was just thinking that maybe we could find someone it would.”

***

_“Was the masquerade your notion or his?”_

_“Lord Littlefinger suggested it. He said it would frighten Stannis’s ignorant men-at-arms.”_

_~A Storm of Swords, page 923~_


End file.
